A/N: Here is my NJC oneshot. Basically we were assigned a song (Backseat by Zornik) and had to write a oneshot using the song as inspiration. It's not a songfic, just so you know! I have added some thoughts at the end as to why I wrote this. It works best if you listen to the song (which can be found on live journal at sunlilprod) but can be read without! Enjoy!
The clouds hung ominously in the sky, threatening rain that never came.
A man stood amidst a throng of people, observing his surroundings. Those around him, even strangers, acknowledged that this man was different.
He stood tall and unmoving. His face was passive, betraying none of the emotions that were so tumultuous inside. His eyes were penetrating, and his stare was so fierce that others turned away.
People looked at him strangely as they walked by, wondering why he wasn't moving. Everyone was on the move, that's how life worked. But he was still, barely moving his head as he scanned the crowd in front of him.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face but he made no move to wipe it away. You wouldn't think to look at him, but this man was normally impatient.
But what he was doing right now, this search for the elusive hunter, required much patience and it was too important to be anything other than perfect.
Suddenly the man spotted who he was looking for and he ducked and weaved through the crowds like a cat, following the well dressed man fifty yards in front of him.
He made no attempt to reach for the various concealed weapons that were strategically placed throughout his body.
The man he was following continued walking down the street until he was in front of a fairly upscale apartment building.
This was his chance.
Before the man could enter the building, he was grabbed and dragged down the alley.
"What are you doing?" the man sputtered. "I…" his face went pale at the sight of his attacker. "You!" he said.
"Me." The man said smugly, reaching in to his jacket and pulling out his gun. He aimed it at the man, once a tough and honest FBI agent who had turned dirty for a quick buck.
"What do you want Max?"
Max chuckled. "I should be asking you the same thing. Care to tell me why you are trying to kill my son?"
It was the man's turn to smile. "I knew it would bring you out of hiding." He lifted up the cellphone he had concealed in his jacket. "I called the big boss. In five minutes you'll be dead."
"Guess I should get this over with then." Max replied, pulling the trigger and firing three bullets into the man's chest. The man fell like a stone and Max looked around to see if anyone had seen or heard. It was unlikely; the silencer on the gun had taken care of that.
He turned and headed out of the alley, leaving the man there. Seeing a car parked across the street, he decided to hotwire it so that he could take the body where it needed to go. Where everyone would see that it was wrong to mess with Max Keenan's kids.
After hastily loading the body in the trunk, he sped off down the street, wheels squealing. He finally made it to the roof of the Hotel Roosevelt, multiple beads of sweat rolling down his face now. He wasn't as young as he used to be, that's for sure.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a thin notebook. In the pages, were several handwritten pages. Pulling one out, he grabbed the red sharpie from his pocket and wrote in clear letters 'I am Garrett Delaney.'
Hoisting the man up onto one of the metal rails, he tied him there and then pulled out the knife hidden by his ankle.
He didn't like killing but this was necessary. For them.
He stabbed Delaney in the chest dragging the knife down until his intestines spilled over the ground. Max turned away, for a moment unable to look at the man he killed.
'You had to do this.' He thought to himself. 'Put your heart in a box.'
And with that he turned back, sheathed the knife and pulled out a coin from his pocket. Opening Delaney's mouth he shoved it in along with the folded handwritten page. Then he poured gasoline all over him and lit a fire.
He only stayed for a moment to watch him burn, the yellow and black flames making short work of him.
As he turned away, he smiled slightly, knowing that this should send them a message.
Nobody messes with Max Keenan's kids and lives to tell about it.
A/N: The first time I listened to this song, I had no idea what I was going to write about. The second time I listened I immediately thought about Max. Judas on a Pole is one of my favourite episodes and one line in particular got me. At the end, Max says:
FATHER COULTER: Well, I mean, you have to start somewhere. You know, you're – you're very much like him.
BRENNAN: I'm – nothing like my father.
FATHER COULTER: Black and white, the two of you. You always saw the world in black and white. Your mother wasn't like that, either is Russell.
This song illustrated for me the similarities between Brennan and Max, primarily because I don't think Max is a cold blooded killer but rather someone who puts his heart in a box, like Brennan. And as Booth says, he does have honour! Both the lyrics and the song just reminded me of Max and this unfortunate but necessary task that he has to do.